


Hel's Scale

by 7cinnamonroses



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Drama, Emotional Hurt, Gen, King Loki, Not So Friendly Reunion, Sassy Loki, Sleep Tight Odin, TADA!, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-08
Updated: 2014-08-17
Packaged: 2018-01-18 15:44:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1433983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/7cinnamonroses/pseuds/7cinnamonroses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The moment he was dying, Loki had an epiphany. Quite an ill-timed one –given the current circumstances– but an epiphany nonetheless. The darkness he was waiting for never came though and he wasn't a man who appreciated being kept waiting. Not when there were matters that needed to be taken care of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Odin

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!  
> So, this is a prequel for another story of mine (called House Guests, a wwffy... Don't judge!),  
> but you do not have to read that story to –hopefully– enjoy Hel's Scale.

**Odin**

Odin stood in the middle of his Throne room. To see this glorious, beautiful hall in such a sorry state made his heart sink even more. The destruction had been severe. It was all in shambles. He felt exhausted, drained and oh so tired. He turned to the one guard who had been following him after he had sent the others away to make sure that the citizens were taken care of. He wanted to be alone. No one was supposed to see him in such a weak state that mirrored the state of his throne room perfectly.

His heart wretched once more, begging him to rest. It urged him to process these past few days, but he quietened it with the surging need to avenge his wife. He thought of Malekith and that wretched creature that had ended the life of the most precious creature in existence.

Without her, what was there left to protect?

The king dismissed the guard and he did not hesitate. No one questioned him anymore. He had lost all of those who would speak up when they thought it was due. And some of them had even dared to object when it had not been due. He missed that. All gone now. Lost. Odin closed his eye and sighed, once more filling his veins with frustration instead of grief. It did not last long. He kept loosing control over his emotions, leaving only emptiness and the question: To what use?

When the doors closed behind the guard the once powerful king of Asgard was finally alone. He walked up to his former Throne, the only sound being the occasional ‘clank’ of Gungnir. The symbol of his power… It had not even been able to protect Frigga… Nor had it ensured his true-born son’s loyalty. Not even Heimdall had remained loyal to him. Anger tried to flare up inside his heart but he did not have enough strength left inside to have this hot, all-consuming rage bursting through his system for long. It subsided like a weak flame, leaving only one feeling: Dread!

His wife was dead. Loki would most certainly betray Thor and –if not both– Thor, Loki and that Midgardian woman Jane Foster would find an early demise. He tried to clench the spear, tried to find strength to be displeased enough with Thor not to care what happened to him. But he couldn’t! Their last argument… The way Thor had looked at him had nearly brought him to his knees. His son’s eyes had been filled with this new kind of seriousness that had been lingering behind his blue orbs ever since he had brought Loki back. Thor had changed. Loki’s crimes had changed more than just his own fate. He, whom Odin himself had sentenced to a life in one of the cells, had forced Thor to grow up. A bitter smile that hurt Odin’s face like a sharp dagger twitched on the old man’s face.

_There will never_ be a _wiser king_ than you. _Or a better father…_ , his son’s words echoed through his mind. How good a father was he really? Did Thor regret these words now?

“My king…” a deep voice rips him from his thoughts.

He turned towards the bearer of the voice. A young man who looked worn out but strong. The soldier told him of news from Svartalfheim.

Of a body that had been found.

Before reacting he took a shallow breath when he realized something. He had closed down the Bifrost. There was no way his soldiers could have made it to the Dark World. There was but one living being to know about the hidden passages.

“Loki…”

Odin did not have the energy to play pretend. If the boy was gormless enough to come back and seek out conflict, he ought to get on with it. Indeed the face of the soldier changed into the pale visage of his… of Loki. For a moment neither of them moved.

“All _father_!” Loki half-spat. It was obvious however, that he tried his best to sound nonchalant. Another, older wound was ripped open inside of the old man’s chest. This boy… man, had always tried to please. Now there was nothing but loathing and bitterness left. Hidden behind the insolent smirk he saw right now. “Don’t mind to call for the guards. I’ve put this one very handy spell on the room which will make sure no one will be eavesdropping while we have our …ahm… teary reunion.”

“I don’t need guards to take care of the likes of you, boy.” Odin told him calmly. “Where is Thor?” he asked, fearing… Was Loki here to tell him that he had killed his only son? The thought alone weighted him down and he felt light headed.

“Well, why don’t you ask that irritatingly nosy gate-keeper of yours?” Loki shot back in a mocking tonr, clearly knowing the answer. “Oh that is right. Good Heimdal fell from grace. Forgive me, it does seem I made it the new fashion around here.”

Oh, that insolent… How dare that ungrateful imbecile talk like that? His arms felt heavy, but he held onto Gungnir. He’d end it here! Again and again he heard Frigga’s voice.

_“We need to speak to Loki. He is old enough to understand. Let him know why he seems so different from Aesir children.”_ He heard her calm request, which was stored in his memory. He was also remembering his reply. The same reply he always gave her when she brought up Loki’s heritage.

_“To what outcome, my love? It would only embitter him to know that he would never like his companions.”_

_“He already feels his difference from you. From Thor! Odin, the boy is too intelligent and observant not to feel it.”_ She had argued. He had told her that Loki would grow out of these sentiments. That he’d grow and become a man along with Thor. As their son.

That man stood in front of him now. Frigga had been right. They should have told him. He had been a fool.

“What do you want, boy?” he asked, pressing all his strength into his voice. Odin felt tired. So tired.

“Ah!” his foster-son inclined his head as if to bow. “Your son was not too eager to share that one piece of information I am eager to learn about. I was hoping you could make amends for your son’s diffidence.”

Odin’s expression hardened in a way that made his face ache. His muscles begged him to let go, to relax. But he didn’t. Not in front of an insolent child! He did not say anything, so Loki continued, his face no longer holding amusement. There was just the loathing in his eyes, the rest of his face seemed almost calm. Odin knew that expression. The other man would strike any second now.

“Did she suffer?”

Silence. In the hall. In his mind. The whole universe was at stake and here he stood. Interrogated by the one being he thought least worthy to question him anymore. How dare he? Reminding him of his loss. Of his guilt.

“I suppose you are growing hard of hearing.” Loki mocked venomously, obstructing his naturally deep voice. “DID. SHE. SU…”

“I…. HEARD YOU!” Odin snapped, his voice nearly ripping his throat apart. It hurt. It all hurt. Sleep. All he wanted to do was… Oh no. Not now!

“Then tell me! Did the one being that would have been left to you –after your only son will leave you for a Midgardian wench– suffer?” Loki hissed. He did not raise his voice. He did not have to. Loki had Odin’s undivided attention.

“Your tricks and twisted words will not…” Odin hissed back, but was interrupted.

“If you truly think he’ll choose the throne over her, then I finally know who passed that obvious dullness down to your son.”

Both men stared at one another for several heartbeats.

“What do you want Loki? The throne again?”

“I am here for Gungnir.” The other said without a moments’ hesitation. If only Odin was not fighting the Odinsleep, which was fighting a battle with his senses! He would have laughed out.

“Gungnir only serves the king pronounced by the council.” Odin reminded him and tried to sound amused.

“Exactly.” Was the reply that was performed in a voice one would use on a simpleton who got something right for once.

Odin froze. It did nothing for the struggle of not being overwhelmed by the slumber he would never wake up from. If he fell asleep now, Loki would kill him. He had to kill the boy. It had to be done.

_Forgive me, Frigga…_

He aimed the weapon at the man who had once been his son and fired...

 

Hitting thin air. He was knocked off his feet, tumbling down the steps, while his weapon was snatched from his grasp. Coming to his feet, he looked at the spear. It was aimed at him. He swayed. Sleep. His eyelids were so heavy.

Stay on your feet you fool!, he chastised himself.

“Are you tired, Allfather? Am I really all that dreary that you always fall asleep as we discuss matters that do not even seem to be all that insignificant. But maybe that is just my perception.” Loki mocked, still pointing the spear at Odin, but keeping his distance.

“It will never follow your orders, Loki.” Odin rasped. Now even his voice felt tired.  
 _No. No…_

“Let’s test that theory, shall we?” the other said, his voice flippant. Loki aimed at a pile of rubble and pure energy shot out of the ancient spear. A smirk was on his face as he turned to Odin. “Is it just me or does it seem to work quite satisfactory?”

Odin could not glare at Loki anymore. Sleep wrapped its arms around him.

“The moment you wake up, I will have washed my hands off you. Though it will be the moment you will wish never to have tossed me aside.” Odin couldn’t think anymore as Loki continued. “You will spend the rest of your life owing a mere _monster_!” Were the last words Odin heard, barely registering that Loki had indeed talked about him waking up.


	2. Calling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to do some research on (and some bending of) mythology. So if you see something that's not according to norse canon: I am aware of it, but decided to change some details.  
> For those familiar with the character of Hel: She is not Loki's daughter here, though I will get to that part of mythology eventually. Plus: There is a reason why I called her Hel and not Hela like Marvel.
> 
> Also: Yaaay! Thanks for the kudos and the bookmark, people :)

**Loki**

Usually, death was not something you came back from to ruin the suspension for anyone else. No one ever made it back after two weeks, entered their home and told their loved ones what it would be like after everything else will dissolve. Near-death probably wasn’t something that happened all too often, considering the fact that Asgardians, Jotunns, Darkelves and the likes meant business. When you fell, you fell. No one counted on you to have the courtesy to just lay on the ground after being wounded. No. They would make sure you would stay down permanently. This was the way things were. Usually!

Though, to be absolutely honest: There weren’t too many usual aspects about him.

In no sense of the word.

He stirred. Thor and his tiny mortal were gone.

Why wasn’t he…

Why was he still… there?

Then the pain. It bit and clawed at his senses and once again he was about to loose consciousness. It hurt. Certainly this was it. His body must’ve jerked him awake one last time in a stubborn attempt to stay alive. The wound burned deep into him and every breath felt like swallowing glass.

The moment he had thought that he would die, he had had an epiphany. Which, given the circumstances, was the most ironic thing he had ever encountered and that’s saying something! Loki had realized that –if he had lived– Thor would have demanded his freedom. A limited one, maybe, but freedom nonetheless. He also realized that Odin, along with the universe, would have owed him. Not just a pardon, no! They would have been bound to admit that he had saved the woman. And Thor. Not for a moment did he doubt that Thor would defeat Malekith, so ultimately: Loki had even helped to restore that precious order to the universe that everyone was craving.

At that moment, he’d kill to see the old man’s face upon realizing that Loki’s part in saving the Nine Realms had been much more significant than his own. It was hilarious, really! If only everlasting darkness wasn’t about to claim him, he would have laughed until he would have been quite weary. Speaking of everlasting darkness: What was taking so long? His inners were burning up, cooking him, when a cold lightness stirred somewhere in his chest.

For an instant his thoughts drifted to his mother… To Frigga… But that burnt, so he tried to shove it away. Only that…

How would she have reacted?

This time she would have been proud. She would’ve smiled and embraced him like the day when he had just killed Laufey. When he had saved Odin’s life…

And hers…

His inners did not burn anymore, but felt like they were freezing and he started to gasp. Somehow this felt… relaxing.

It actually felt positively terrific, but the darkness did eventually hunt down his senses.

_If only she would’ve lived… If only there was a way…_

His eyes flew open a felt eternity later, after being plagued by dreams and the realization that ‘if’ was one hell of a troublesome concept, followed by yet another, much more important realization.

He was not dead.

It took a moment to process this new information and all the possibilities, which arose along with it. People thought him dead.

_If this isn’t an advantage, what is?_

Loki clenched his hands, feeling some sand run through his fingers, while some bigger corns rubbed against his skin. So he was alive…

“What do we do with that?” he wondered aloud, the wind blowing his hair and some sand into his eyes.

A small smile pulled at the corner of his lips. He had an inkling of the ‘what’. Time to take care of the ‘how’.

 

Hiding the body had been child’s play! Long before Thor had made his way back to abandon his claim to the throne, just as he had thought he would, Loki had made sure that –should Odin wake sooner than he ought to– his plans would not be disturbed this time. Now, five days after the Accursed had been defeated he had to make sure to get Sif and the warriors three away from the palace for some time. Deep in thought, he stroked his beard, grinning to himself. Maybe he ought to grow a beard himself once this farce was over. Though he never had had facial hair to begin with. It made sense. He had never heard of a frostgiant with a beard.

“Guard.” He said quietly in Odin’s voice. One of the men stepped forward and bowed. “Bring me the Lady Sif and Lord Volstagg and Lord Fandral.”

The guard hurried off.

Loki leaned back. They had to leave! Two days ago he had released them from prison. Odin would have done it, so Loki had to do so too. The only person who was still in the dungeons was Heimdall. He would not interfere this time. A spell limited his all seeing gaze. Loki would take care of things.

The doors swung open and in marched Sif and the two warriors. They kneeled in front of him, obedient and loyal to their dear king. They suspected nothing. Why would they? As far as he was concerned, he was doing a wonderful impression. And restoring the order went quite well under his administrations, if he may say so himself. No. None of them suspected him. But the moment that woman would find out whom she had kneeled to would be priceless. Sadly, he would not be present to witness it.

“My king!” the three of them said and he inclined his head.

“The Aether will be removed from our realm. I assign the three of you with this task and wish you to leave to meet Taneleer Tivan.”

Sif’s head jerked slightly.

“The Collector?” she asked, a trace of doubt in her voice.

“Indeed, Lady Sif. I will hold the three of you personally responsible for the safe delivery.” His voice held a tinge of a warning. He had heard it in Odin’s voice more than once after being questioned. A thousand years had taught him everything he needed to know. It was so easy. Of course… had mother lived, she would have known instantly. Not only because she knew how Odin would act, but because she knew perfectly well how he would act and move in certain moments.

_Well, if she had lived, none of this would be necessary…_

The day he had returned, he had witnessed Odin’s latest decisions regarding the battle.  
And people considered _him_ out of his mind. Well, it seemed to Loki, that his return was everything but ill-timed.

The shadows in the middle-sized hall, which had to suffice as a throne room during the needed reparations became darker and longer as the sun began to set. It was almost time. He rose from the substitute for the large throne in the golden hall and went out. There was someone he had to talk to.

 

After his return he had spent two nights searching the library. Two nights of searching for that one book he had read when he had just reached manhood. He had cursed himself for forgetting which shelf he’d find it on. 300 years did this to you. They made you forget details and sadly that was exactly what he needed. Details. He had found what he had been looking for eventually and after some more research, he had made his way to the Armoury. There, stored away from public eye like all of Odin’s special toys, he found what he had been looking for.

Hel’s scale.

This was not what he had needed the book for, because he had heard the story of this artifact before. It was smaller than he had thought, considering that it was of such importance to the former owner. It was heavy, the surface smooth and silver. The scale pans however were light as feathers.

Odin had claimed it after he had won a bet with the proud goddess some two thousand years ago. Odin had still been a relatively young king and had jested with some of his higher-ranking subjects. One day Hel, who was assigned to take care of the less deserving souls after their deaths, had claimed that her domain –which was located in every underworld of every realm– was untouchable. The Allfather had laughed at her, telling her that this was not surprising, since her realm was filled with fallen cowards and undeserving women and no one would have to fear those. The Mistress of the Dead had scoffed at that, reminding him that she too called great worriers and fearsome creatures her own and that none of them would dream of leaving her domain. This had made the young king smile.  
Odin had had a mortal favourite and had wagered that this favourite would be able to bring something of hers to the surface of Midgard. Hel had laughed it off, but accepted the bet. As a wager the king demanded Hel’s scale, an instrument she used to find out if a soul was truthful or not. Being convinced that she could not loose Hel had consented. Not long after that, Odin’s favourite –called Heracles or Hercules or however he was called– had been able to lure one of Hel’s dogs out of the underworld and thus Hel lost the bet… and her scale.

He had heard this story a dozen times while growing up, Frigga telling him and Thor about the scale’s powers. According to her the scale would weight a person’s words. The truth –so his mother had told him– would be light as the scale’s pan, while a lie would weight it down. A most handy little toy. And probably quite bothersome!

“My name is Odin.” He said calmly and the right scale dropped down immediately. Loki grinned as the scale moved into its balanced position again. “My name is Loki.” He whispered and nothing happened. Most bothersome.

 

Loki had never met Hel, but he knew from the stories which Frigga and sometimes even Odin had told the boys during their childhood that she was still fond of a good bargain. He locked the heavy doors of the royal apartments and closed the curtains with his magic. With another flick of his wrist a greenish-glow grazed the walls, locking in all sounds that might be audible. He sighed and changed into his own body, grasping Gungnir. His palms were sweaty, though he’d never admit that the reason for this was…

This was important to him. He could not fail. If he failed now it would all be in vain. Too much was at stake. Loki swallowed hard, praying to the Norns that his renowned silver tongue would not fail him.

 _Mother, I…_ , his mind called out to her. He knew she would not be with Hel. She was a warrior and had died an honourable death. No. As usually things weren’t that easy. Usual... a word just as tiresome as 'if'!

He brought Gungnir down repeatedly, creating a certain sound-pattern, just like he had read in the book. Then there was silence.

 

“Hel! I call your name!”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Loki and Hel strike a deal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for those kudos! I beg your pardon that this took forever to update. University and life and my muse were being very, very daunting. Hopefully you're still intersted in this.

Chapter 3

 

First there had been nothing but silence to answer his call. But he knew that he had not made a mistake. The old witch was bound to answer him. She just took her sweet time, enhancing the anticipation. Was there any of them who did not enjoy a grand entrance? Before Loki was able to ponder about this, the hisses started. They seemed to elicit from the growing shadows on the wall, the darkening corners and from beneath every single piece of furniture in the room. Voices whispered, sighed and moaned in pain until the whole room was filled with them, the sounds crushing against stone, wood and fabric, falling to the floor only to rise again, louder this time, only to bathe his surroundings in thick darkness. Being a Jotunn, Loki barely registered the coldness of the sudden draft that accompanied the voices like an unbidden companion they tried to seek shelter from. It was a tumble of voices that spoke broken gibberish revolving around him. The only living and unroaming soul in the room.

The sound almost became unbearable, but still he did not move even a single muscle.

Then, suddenly, all was silent and the silence now pierced his ears with a new pain.

Until a voice echoed through the room.

“Who calls me?” the voice wondered in a curious manner. It was neither pleasant nor unpleasant, nor would he have been able to distinguish whether or not it belonged to a woman. The age of the owner was impossible to determine and while it was like a gentle caress it resembled a dagger scratching metal.

“Hel.” he greeted. There was no doubt about it.

“Loki Laufeyson.” came the reply that was ambivalent in tone and voice as her first words. How curious…

He did not even flinch when she referred to him by his name. With her it was simply no use to care about such details. Which was probably what such things as names were to her. Details, which were made to be over-looked. He instantly remembered old stories, about her. When fallen, undeserving warriors, cowards and the likes were cast down into her realm they were stripped of their names, pushing them into the path of evolving, mind numbing insanity.

“I am the Queen of the Underworld.” she interrupted his memory. “What makes you think I have the time to pay my respects to the new king of Asgard?”

His eyes narrowed. The lady was well informed. Better not get on her bad side just yet…

“I shall not keep you long and I suppose you would appreciate it if we were to skip the diplomatic niceties and came straight to the point instead.”

A laugh erupted from somewhere in the room. He could not see her and her voice had not given him the slightest wish to alter that fact. In case her face was anything like her voice, he would certainly be haunted by it for the length of his remaining years.

“You are not dense, I give you that. So tell me: What do you wish of me?”

“Odin once claimed something that used to belong to you. I wish to return it into your possession.” Loki said into the inhabited darkness that seemed to regard him with interest.

“I assume you do not do this because of the kindness of your heart?” her voice now behind him. Every other man would have shivered at it’s sceptic character which was distinguishable even though it had been spoken in the tone of childlike naiveté.

“You are fond of a good bargain, as they say.”

A cold, sweaty hand gripped his throat, but allowed him to breathe. It was a rather small hand…

“Do not play with me Jotunn! The dead do not fend for themselves, so cease this banter and speak clear.”

“I shall return your scale if you do not refuse in assist the return of Queen Frigga to the living.” He hissed.

The hand fell away from his throat limply.

“The Queen died a valiant death in battle. She is beyond my reach… She resides with dearest Freyja in the fields of Fólkvangr.” Her lively voice sounded tired and drained while bursting with energy at the same time.

“I am aware of that…” Loki admitted. “And you have one of Freyjar’s favourites, falsely trapped in your midst. How does young Iðunn fare these days?”

The young woman had always been dear to Freyja, being forever young and beautiful with her long, blonde, wavy hair and soft, full body and her pleasant laugh. Some years ago she had been thrust into Hel’s clutches by means that were beyond Loki. Freyja possessed nothing of interest to Hel, which she might offer in exchange. Odin of Asgard, however did!

A sigh.

With every word she spoke, the room became lighter as if she was swallowing the shadows her entrance had added to the semi-darkness of the room.

“I should have known this would take longer…” Hel spoke and not even the contradicting tone of her voice could hide her unwilling interest. Loki was left with a sensation he had not felt in a long, long time.

Bewildered surprise.

In front of his stood the silhouette of a child with long, grey hair. He was unable to see the girl’s face, since shadows had wrapped themselves around it like a tight mask, but this was without question a child. The movement of her head suggested that she had caught him while being taken aback.

“Would you rather talk to an old warrior or a young, wanton whore? Cowardice graced the faces of many faces over the years and I took hold of all of them… This child here… She accidently set the house on fire. Instead of waking her family, she hid under a tree outside, as her family died in the fire. And then the one that lived in the house next to them, as that one too took fire. And the next… And the next… They drowned her when they found her muttering in the ruins. That was on… Vanaheim I think. Some 100 years ago…” she mused and sounded a bit bored. When Loki did not react, having no wish to listen to that insufferable voice longer than was need to, the Queen of the Underworld crossed her arms behind her back. “You shall have Iðunn. But only when my scale is returned to me!”

Loki nodded.

“I have no use for such an considerable degree of honesty in my palace.” He admitted and for the first time Hel’s laughter resembled that of a child.

“Aren’t you a delight?” she wondered aloud and he straightened his back.

“I am of course unable to communicate with Freyja in person.”

As aggravating her voice might be, Hel’s mind and the quickness of her thoughts were refreshing, because she nodded slowly.

“You wish me to talk to her… I suppose I am not to mention the fact that it is not Odin Allfather himself asking for his wife? Which will be exactly what will happen in case you refuse me what is rightfully mine!”

Loki grinned.

“The scale shall touch your fingers as soon as my mother is returned to the living.”

Hel nodded once more, accepting the trade and made to turn, when she froze in her movement, causing the God of Mischief to frown.

“Pray tell me… Why rip her from her peaceful slumber? Don’t flatter yourself boy, it is evident that her well-being matters to you. So explain it to me. Are you truly so selfish as to wake her from her peaceful state of mind?”

Something inside of Loki tightened. It was burning and freezing and he felt the distinct urge to punch someone as his own words came back to him, causing the second most painful echo to cut through his mind.

_Try the stairs to the left…_

His eyes shut instantly, urging the thought back into the depths of his mind. Not now. Not in front of her. It would all be solved soon. He’d wash his hand clean of her blood.

 _It wasn’t my fault!,_ his mind tried once more, after the same sentence had never truly convinced him before. _It was Thor and Odin’s fault! They weren’t there! They did not protect her! They imprisoned me. I would have killed them! I would have killed them all!_

 _ENOUGH!,_ some voice inside his mind screeched and he opened his eyes, the expression on his face not giving away his inner turmoil.

“The queen…”

“Oh, spare me your fake coldness! You are the most hot-blooded Jotunn I ever had the pleasure of conversing with and that is saying something considering whom you are related to. It slipped once, so stop to bore me!” she snapped and sounded truly out of humour.

Loki stared. What exactly was this… woman? Thing?

He regarded her coldly, earning a scoff. Truly… this was no one he wanted to mess with.

“My mother, queen of this realm dies while her realm was under siege, Thor in battle over a woman will not even live long enough to see his beard turn white, me in a prison cell, her husband an aging nuisance. What exactly would be peaceful about a soul laid to rest under such conditions?” he argued in a calm, though venomous voice. Right now, he wanted nothing more than for this to be over. Hel’s voice made him ache for silence, the cold in the room beginning to affect even him, gnawing at his bones while all he wished for was the knowledge that Frigga would return to him safely.

The child tilted her head to the side as if she was regarding him with curiosity.

After a pause in which he realized that she did not seem to breathe at all, she spoke once more.

“I shall be back by sundown, tomorrow. Bring the scale and something of hers. A lock of her hair, something that still holds her scent, anything. I need something her soul can clutch unto to weave a new body.” She instructed and again silence.

It was a good thing that he had ordered her chambers to be locked. It should be easy to find a brush, which still held some of her long, soft hair.

“Oh and boy?” the voice clutched his senses once more. “In case you betray me, the queen of Asgard shall forever remain in my realm, never to return to any of you weeping, pathetic bunch of mortal scum.”


End file.
